


Trust In Me

by BrightDream



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 1960s, Charles can't deal with the Mansion, Gen, I don't know what I'm doing, Inspired by Music, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Me trying to multichapter, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of concentration camps, Period-Typical Homophobia, Single Father in the 60'S, Will add more tags as I go, canon AU, me trying to english
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:24:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightDream/pseuds/BrightDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Anya Lensherr had survived the fire?</p><p> AU in which Erik doesn't go looking for revenge, because he has to take care of his little daughter.<br/>As a consequence, instead of Charles and Erik meeting during the great Shaw hunt of 1962, they meet in New York in 1961, where the only thing they have to deal with is their own fears and hopes...</p><p>Slowbuild; Multi-chaptered;  XMFC Cast will appear in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The weight of family

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I had in mind for a long time, but I never really intended to post it.  
> I started writing it as a way to relax, in a phase that has not been easy for me, so it was a surprise when I realized I had written a lot and had most of the rest already planned.  
> I'm posting the first chapters in the next few weeks and I'll see how it goes.  
> I've never really written a multi-chaptered before, so every feedback is deeply appreciated.
> 
> Also, I should mention that the title is from Etta James' song, which heavily inspired this fic, but that will be dealt with in future chapters.

 

It was eight o’clock when the alarm clock buzzed, loud and demanding at his left.

As usual, it didn’t take more than a few seconds for Erik to wake up, his mind always on alert. He rolled to his side and sent the button down with a mental push, metal sliding smoothly.

More slowly, Erik took in his surroundings. There were a couple of coins over the table, exactly where he had left them last night; his pants thrown on the back of a chair, zipper tilted down. There were clothes hangers inside the closet and the old engine in a corner. And, of course, there was aluminum, its familiar song humming right by his side, a soft symphony, beautiful in ways that even Bach’s masterpieces didn’t manage to be.

He tilted his body in its direction, found himself facing a mess of brown hair.

 “ _Guten Morgen, liebling_ ”

Anya came awake slowly, tossing and turning inside the cocoon of Erik’s sheets.  She stretched her slim arms, the aluminum bracelet showing, before she decided to shift closer to Erik instead, burrowing in the fabric of his night shirt.

“ _Morgen, papa”_ she murmured in a sleepy voice.

He caressed her hair, felt her tiny body against his.  “You had nightmares again last night?” he asked in German.

She hummed in agreement.

Anya was seven and although she had her own bed, with purple sheets and stuffed animals, she still joined Erik in his sometimes. Erik often thought that he should be stricter with her, tell her to face her fears as his father had told him when he was around her age, but he just couldn’t do it. She had too many nightmares for that, silly things about monsters under her bed most times, but also some others about her mother or red, red flames.

 “It got better when you came to my bed?”

“Yeah” and she pressed even more firmly against Erik’s chest.

It felt nice, but the clock was ticking by their side, a reminder of their rushed mornings. Time passed too quickly and Anya usually took too much time in the shower. “ _Schatz_ , come on, it’s time to get up.”

“Do we really have to?” she whined.

“Well, you can’t miss school, can you?” He reasoned “And I have many cars to finish.”

Anya found his eyes in a beat; her expression hopeful “What kind of cars?”  

 “No pink ones, _liebling_ , if that’s what you asking”  

The disappointment was clear on her face. He had make the mistake to tell Anya about a pink Cadillac that he had fixed the other day at the Repair Shop and she hadn’t stopped asking about pink cars ever since.

“I’ll tell you what, you get up now and I’ll give you a pink car when you’re older.”

Her eyes immediately widened “As pink as Mrs. Anne dress?”

“As pink as Mrs. Anne dress.”

“You promise?”

 “If you get up right now, I promise” But he didn’t really need to blackmail her again, because she was up in a second, hoping excitedly on the bed.

Erik chuckled. He got up himself, floated Anya to the ground by her bracelet, making her giggle.

“ _Papa_!”

“Come on, lazy girl, let’s go”

They started their morning procedures, as they did it every day. Anya bathed while Erik shaved, making sure she was washing all the places she should. He knew soon she would stop needing supervision for that, but for now he made sure to remember her to wash between her toes and behind her ears, just to make sure.

He then proceeded to dry and brush her hair. Anya found it exciting when he did it with the metal comb, but Erik preferred to do it with his own hands, sitting her down on the toilet and undoing the knots carefully. He let her dress herself after he was done, although he still helped her buttoning her collar and straightening her skirt anyway.

“I know how to fix my skirt, papa” Anya said matter of factly and really, sometimes she sounded like she was fourteen and not seven.

“I like to help you nonetheless” He told her and straightened her skirt one more time. The truth was, he was too used to taking care of his daughter to just let it go that easily.

Erik made breakfast next, waffles this time, as Anya walked around with her newest teddy bear. She knew her English very well, but precisely for that reason Erik had a German-only rule for when they were at home. She extended that for her toys as well, what always warmed his heart.

Afterwards, when they had finished eating and had already brushed their teeth, they left together, Erik in his working clothes, Anya ready for school. The morning was more pleasant than usual today, summer really showing itself for the first time.

“I may pick you up later than usual this afternoon, _schatz,_ I have a lot of things to do at the shop”

Anya didn’t seem at all bothered at the prospect “Okay! Mrs. Brooks said we could make cookies the next time I stayed late!” Her smile lighted up her entire face.

Erik smiled, a little amused “It’s funny, you are never this happy when _I’m_ the onemaking cookies”

“Ah, yours are okay, but, papa, Mrs. Brooks’ they are _so_ good!  I’ll save one for you; I promise, you’ll see then, papa, you’ll love them, they are just...-“

She was still talking about the cookies when they arrived at the school a few minutes later, the usual mess around the gates, fancy mothers dropping off their daughters. They were all used to Erik by now, although it had taken them a few months not to stare. They were house wives after all, rich and proper and Erik, well, Erik was a single father, German, bringing his daughter before heading to his work as a mechanic. He actually considered himself lucky that they hadn’t tried making a scandal.

“Bye, _liebling_ ” Erik bent to kiss Anya’s head “Have a good day”

“You too, papa.”

He watched her disappear inside with Mrs. Anne, but still didn’t leave. Erik always made sure Anya was all right before that, following the path of her aluminum bracelet all the way to her class.

He waited until he felt that she had sat and quieted, long after all the mothers had all gone away, to finally allow himself to turn around and run off to work.

Erik had a busy day ahead of him, but it never hurt to be too precautious when the matter was his daughter.

_-_

It was sunny morning in the state of New York, weather stable and warmer than Charles had expected. It had been raining when Charles left Oxford, an unstoppable drizzle that had Raven cursing the “darn British weather”, but now he was faced with clear sky.

Charles leaned his forehead against the dirty cab window, tried to cheer himself up with some Sun. He suspected not the best weather on the world would make a difference today, but it was always worth trying.

Ten minutes later and not one bit happier, the cab was already pulling to the side. Charles lifted his head to see the gray gate waiting for him, ominous, a familiar mind in front of it.

“Here is fine, thank you” Charles instructed the cab driver. He paid the poor man (who had spent the entire time thinking about his sick mistress), took a deep fortifying breath and got out of the car.

“Mr. Charles, how good it is to see you!” said a deep voice. Charles turned to see a short and stout man, white hair and cane in hand. “How are things?”

“Wonderful, thank you. How about you, Mr. Giles?”     

“Everything’s been great. It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

It had. The last time Charles had seen the caretaker had been three years ago, in his mother’s funeral. He definitely didn’t look so old back then, although his mind had already been pulsing in the exact same way it did now.

“Well, you know how it goes, I’ve been awfully busy in Oxford” Charles said vaguely. It was a lie of course, but it was hardly Mr. Giles business anyway.

“Sure, sure.” Mr. Giles tapped his cane against the gravel “Shall we go in then?”

“Of course”

The caretaker searched for a minute in his bundle of keys; opened the gate with a creak. He made a hand gesture. “Come on in, Mr. Charles”

Together, they started walking the long path that led to the Mansion. The pace was slow, Mr. Giles limping with his cane and Charles dragging his heavy suitcase behind him, but Charles was actually kind of thankful for that. Somewhere hidden between these trees the House waited; not a sight Charles was particularly looking forward to.

“Has Miss. Raven come with you?” Mr. Giles asked.

“Oh no, couldn’t get off work I’m afraid”

Mr. Giles shook his head, disappointed. “That’s a pity” And thought: _I really miss the girl._  

 Charles smiled to himself.  He remembered Mr. Giles from when he was a child, a short and not nearly as fat gardener at the time, complaining that Raven and Charles were running all over his grass. He had always had a soft spot for Raven, forgiving them in a second when she said she was sorry, but holding the grudge for days if Charles was the one to say it.

“I’ll be happy to send her your regards.”

Mr. Giles smiled; continued his slow steps. He was a little uncomfortable, almost unsure of how to approach a topic. Which topic became quite obvious when the Mansion appeared in front of them, huge and imposing, and he threw a nervous look at Charles’ direction. “Shall we go in?”

Charles’ stomach sunk. He had been dreading this moment for days, _weeks_ really, ever since he had decided he had to come back. Now, though, he had to face it.

 “Let’s’”

The keys rattled as Mr. Giles searched for the right one in his bundle, then when he put it in place. He turned once, twice and then the door was finally opened.

He tried to breathe slowly.

Charles never stepped inside the Mansion as its owner before. Truthfully, the last time he had been inside the House was the day he left it for good, in 1952. He had promised that day he would never come inside its doors again and had been following that promise ever since.

Three years ago, when his mother died, he had come to the property to attend the funeral. All the important people in New York’s High Society had been there that day, to pay their condolences to the young Xavier heir; there was not one single one of them that hadn’t thought Charles would immediately take the Mansion for himself. It had certainly passed no one’s mind that Charles would keep living in his flat in Oxford and even less so that he would absolutely refuse to come inside the House.

Charles was never one to make a scene, but he could admit he had made one that day. The mere thought of stepping inside the House had sent panic through his veins, his vehement refusal at meeting the lawyer upstairs shocking everyone.

 _Rich people and their eccentricities_ he remembered hearing, smoking next to his mother’s grave. Or: _I’ve always told Martha this one was a loon._

“Come in, Mr. Charles, but watch your step” Mr. Giles went first and Charles followed, one careful step after another in the dark, until he finally found the light on the side.

The air was stuffier than normal, all the windows closed, but the familiarity came crashing down regardless. The cream sofa, the wooden stairs, his mother’s crystal vase in the corner....

 “I try to keep it clean, at least the main kitchen and the East Ward.”  Mr. Giles said “But I’m an old man, Mr. Charles, so you’ll understand if is not perfect.” Charles nodded “Anyway, no one has been living here for the last three years and there’re a lot of repairs in order. There’s a leak on the smallest basement and the lamps at some of the rooms in the South Ward aren’t working. A guy I know, Jack, recommended a handyman if needed, I think you should consider calling him...”

It was all a little too much. He had just come back and Mr. Giles was already reminding him of things to do, people to call, matters to attend...-

 “I was actually considering selling the Mansion” he admitted quietly.

Mr. Giles stopped dead in his tracks.

 _What is he saying, selling the Mansion, has he fucking lost his mind, what, I don’t understand...-_ Charles heard it, as clear as if he was saying it out loud.

What Mr. Giles did say out loud wasn’t much better.

“You know your father would never agree with such a thing”

Charles huffed. He was always pestered with the father comparison, which he hated more than anything else in this world. _You look just like your father_ people said, or _So you’re a scientist, just like the old man!_ They said like that it was a good thing, like it should feel nice to be compared to Bryan. Charles could never understand that, never understand how they could smile recalling a guy that had decided to shoot himself in the head abandoning a five year old son and young wife.

 “What my father would or would not agree with does not matter”. Mr. Giles’ irritation spiked at the phrase, so Charles added. “I haven’t made up my mind yet, anyway.”

Mr. Giles looked at him, thinking _Stupid boy_ and _He would give up everything the Xavier family has built in a juvenile decision?_   “If you haven’t decided Mr. Charles, I should advice you not to do it.”

Charles sighed and nodded, sitting down heavily on the sofa. “I’ll take it in consideration” he murmured, although he had taken it in consideration already, so many times.

The Mansion had been growing inside his thoughts lately as something he could no longer ignore. Charles was twenty seven now, not a child anymore, and it felt like he had to face his responsibilities as a grow man.  The way he saw it, he had two options: to fully take the responsibility for the Mansion or to sell it. He wasn’t very comfortable with neither of these options, however he had to admit that the latter seemed much more doable than the first.

 His eyes automatically traveled through the room, thinking of all the bad memories he had had in this living room. Charles sighed again, lowered his eyes to the low table on the center. There was a piece of paper there, yellowish, which Charles reached for.

It was a note, clearly scribbled down in a hurry, that  no one had thought to throw away.

 _-Hair Cut 4 p.m.-,_ it said, and lower _-Gift for Mabel’s son-,_ and also _-Contact lawyer-_. And right there, on the bottom, smaller than the rest, it was written, in his mother’s distinct handwriting:  _-Call Charles_

He gasped.

It felt like someone had punched him, his chest tight and hot, his eyes prickling.   _Call Charles,_ it said, _Call Charles_ , and suddenly the house felt too stuffy, the living room too constricting.

“Are you alright Mr. Charles?”

He wasn’t. He had to get out of here, get out of this place, of this fucking House...-

“The cars are still here?” he asked Mr. Giles, and saw the answer in his mind before he could reply. They were all there, in the garage, all except for the Dodge Custom Royal, the one that Cain had driven away when he left.

“Yes, Mr. Charles”

“I’ll... I’ll be right back, I just remembered I have some matters to attend in the City.”

He all but ran to the garage, leaving Mr. Giles completely confused. Well, fuck it, Charles thought aggressively, it was not like he cared. He needed to get away from here, get away right this bloody minute...-

There were at least ten cars in the garage, most of them new and sleek. What called his attention though, was his old blue Cadillac, Coupe de Ville series from 1952. The car was nine year old, laughable considering what rode in the streets these days. It was still his car, though, _his_ , and not Cain’s or Kurt’s or his mom’s, so he hoped it was still working.

He got inside and threw his suitcase on the backseat, found the keys on the panel.  The motor grumbled strangely, but it seemed to be all in order.

Charles sighed and sped up, wind blowing in his face, off the gate and into the speedway.

 _Call Charles,_ his mother had written just before dying.

 But she never had. 


	2. A car, a wink and a phone call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles' nine year old Cadillac makes him meet a special someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about cars, so the parts that talk about it are pure bullshit. Bear with me, okay?

  
Looking back, Charles should have known that would happen. After all, the Cadillac was almost a decade old and it probably hadn’t been checked up in ages.

It was a part of Mr. Giles’ work to make sure the cars were in good conditions, but, still, even if the old caretaker didn’t have a bad leg and entire Mansion to look after, he couldn’t do much more than to take the cars out of the garage every once in a while and try to guess if they were still good to go.

Charles himself couldn’t say he had noticed the car was about the break, even if he thought the engine sound wasn’t very usual. He was no specialist, however, and was too keen on getting away from Westchester to really mind the strange rumble.

He had left the Mansion and taken the road that led to Manhattan, not really with a destination in mind, but simply enjoying the wind in his face and the utter freedom that driving on those roads brought him. Charles didn’t drive too much in Oxford, his flat too close to the University and pretty much to all the other places he and Raven went, so the act of driving was still imprinted in his brain as a synonym of a glorious escape: from Kurt, from Cain, from his mother, or saying it better, from all the shit that came from the House.

It was midmorning when he got to Manhattan, aiming from the Central Park. Charles had never liked New York too much, but he had to admit he had missed this in a way: missed the crazy traffic, the tall buildings and the green refugee that lay right in the middle.

He slowed down and spread his consciousness, felt calm in the sea of minds. There were so many people in the street, so many different dreams and fears and, while that had terrified him as a child, now the touch of these many people felt strangely comforting.

He decided not to stop,to drive further,  and perhaps it was fate that made him keep going, or maybe just a sheer stroke of luck. What mattered was, Charles was in Lower Manhattan when it finally happened, that is to say, when the Cadillac finally rebelled.

“Oh, bloody hell” he cussed under his breath. A dark smoke had started to escape from inside the car, the engine coughing and spluttering  “Come on boy, hang in there” but the smoke kept pouring, making it so hard to see that Charles was forced to pull over.

“Fuck” he muttered, before pushing his hair back and going to inspect the damage. Not that he knew any damn thing about cars, or that he could understand what the hell was happening, but it was what people did, wasn’t it?

Charles opened the hood of the car and stared, but predictably, it was worthless.  He had no idea what to do.

“Hey, man, do need any help?” Some passerby approached him. A quick brush over his thoughts revealed that his name was Richard, that he was middle aged man and that he had taken pity on Charles’ panicked face.

“That depends; do you know anything about cars?”

Richard chuckled, registered all the smoke with some concern. “Not much” he admitted, scratching his head “But I live nearby and there’s a Repair Shop a few blocks from here. I can go call them if you want”

People weren’t usually so kind.  Not that Charles was about to complain...-

“That’s a very kind offer. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll be right back”

Richard ran off, leaving a thankful and quite surprised Charles behind. He hadn’t even needed to use telepathy this time.

Then again, he supposed at least  _one_  thing had to go right with his day.

Charles closed the hood, fished for a cigarrete and leaned against the bumper. Now he only had to wait for the cavalry to arrive.

 

-

 

He was busy in the back, finishing off a Dodge, when he felt another car coming in.

Erik could always know when another person came inside the shop, watch, coins and zippers giving every one away; let alone a car, its huge amount of metal singing to him from afar.

He didn’t even lift his head, too used to the comes and goes in the Repair Shop to stop working for a new arrival. Paul would take the new customer, as he always did.

Erik was securing a screw underneath the car a few minutes later when he heard Paul call him, polite as ever “Hey, Max, get your ass over here”

He slid from where he was and got up, rubbing his hands in his clothes to try to make them less filthy. “What do you want, Moore?”

“Your expertise, brother” Paul said, pointing to a car being towed inside. “It’s just broken a few blocks from here and we took it in.  His owner is this privileged motherfucker - he was here somewhere - I assured him we have a Cadillac expert”

Erik rolled his eyes. He was used to dealing with Cadillacs, yes, but calling him an expert was taking it too far, just to impress rich customers.

“Fine”

The car, he now noticed, was a-few-years-old light blue Cadillac. It was releasing a dark, thick smoke inside the Shop, most likely due to an engine problem.

“Oh, here you are Mr. Xavier! ” he heard Paul call behind him “Where the hell did you go? This is Max, the guy I was talking to you about”

Erik slowly turned back. There was a guy to the left, a few inches shorter than him, with soft brown hair longer than usual. Sure enough, he looked rich, dressed in expensive and a little too baggy pants and shirt, a big watch heavy over his wrist.

“I suppose you’re the Cadillac expert?”

“Yes, Mr. Xavier. I’m Max”

“Call me Charles, please” Xavier stretched his hand.

Erik’s hand was greasy and disgusting, but he took it anyway. It was not often that rich people wanted to shake hands with him, but when they did Erik felt a special kind of pleasure in seeing them recoil, disgusted, and having them clean the grease in their expensive clothes afterwards. 

Xavier, however, didn’t recoil, nor did he clean up his hand. In fact, he didn’t give any sign he'd noticed.

“Let me take a look at your car” Erik said curtly. They could say anything about him, but he definitely was not an expert in small talk. “A Coupe De Ville, right, 1953 series?”

 “1952” Xavier corrected him. “It used to be my old car. I’ve just come back from the UK and decided it to take it out on a ride, but I guess he’s too old for that”

Erik nodded. That explained the English accent, quite pronounced in his speech, even if it didn't explain anything else.

He approached the Cadillac and lifted its hood. The smoke inside didn’t allow him to see very well, but Erik didn’t really need eye sight. He pretended he was squinting and let his mind free to encompass each metal component, to caress each inch inside.

Xavier gasped audibly.

“Is there a problem?” Paul asked, but when Erik looked back Xavier was shaking his head. “N-no, no, everything is fine” he stammered, but his eyes were fixed on Erik.

He had blue eyes, so very blue that Erik wondered how he hadn’t notice them at first sight. It contrasted with his pale, pale skin, with a few freckles scattered over his cheeks and nose. Mind you, his pale skin was now flushed, making Erik look away quickly.

If Erik was to be honest, Charles Xavier looked quite good. He looked boyish and proper and somehow handsome, although it wasn’t a beauty by regular standards.  Not that Erik was one to consider regular standards. In fact, according to what most people thought, Erik’s standards were so far from regular that they were actually  _unnatural..._

Still.

Xavier was a customer and Erik had long willed himself to keep these kind of thoughts from surfacing during his regular day routine.

He slammed the hood shut and turned back.

“It must be an engine problem. A few of the parts were rusty, valves probably, and when you forced them, the engine broke.”

“Can you fix it?” Xavier asked.

For a moment, Erik was tempted to say “no”, just to deny a spoilt British boy something in his life. But truth was, there were few car problems he did not know how to solve.

“Yes. It will be ready by Friday.”

“Friday?” Xavier’s eyes widened “The thing is, I’m actually leaving on Friday. I live in Oxford, you see. I just came to New York settle some matters on the family property and I will come back to England right after, if you...-“

“Fine” Erik cut him “I’ll give it a priority, then. Two days are enough for you?”

“Yes” He looked thankful. There was something else in his blue eyes, though, and they were too fixed in Erik’s “How much is it going to be?”

“I don’t talk prices. Discuss them with Moore” Erik nodded in Paul’s direction “I’ll see you later, Mr. Xavier”

He turned around to go to the Dodge.

“It’s Charles” Xavier called in his confident British voice. Erik looked back at him “I’ll see you on Wednesday then, Max” he winked.

Erik gulped down.

 He didn’t know why, but something about that bothered him more than it should.

 

-

 

It was almost lunch time when he got back to the Mansion, getting off yet another cab in front of the tall gate.

If before it had seemed ominous, now it didn’t carry such a bad connotation; and even less when he found that Mr. Giles had left it opened for him.

Charles got inside and closed it, walked the long path to the House. The Mansion waited for him with its front door unlocked, and although he would never say the House was inviting, he wasn’t as bothered to come inside as before.

Just a few hours ago he had barely stood the sight of his living room, the weight of the past too heavy, but he now felt so excited with had just happened that he could barely register where he was.

Charles simply closed the door, threw his suitcase over the cream sofa and lounged for the phone. It was there, over the side table; he sat down and dialed quickly.

“Alchemy Café, how may we help you?”

“Alicia, hi, it’s Charles. I need to talk to Raven, please”

“Oh, hi, Charles! Wait a sec, let me get her”

Charles got more comfortable, listened to the backroom chitchat and cutlery sounds as he waited.

Raven worked on a coffee shop in Oxford, even though she didn’t really need it. Charles had a lot of money and would happily share everything he had with her, but the waitress job was actually more of a way to fill her hours. Raven had never liked to study and wasn’t sure what she would like to do with her life, so in the meantime, she worked serving coffee close to the University, a job that she honestly enjoyed.

“Hey, big brother, how are things at the Mansion?” Raven said out of the blue, picking up the line.

She sounded very cheerful, but she couldn’t quite hide the note of concern in her voice, not from someone who knew her so well as Charles.

“Everything is fine. I mean, I think it is, I haven’t really had the time to check it just yet”

“Was your trip okay?”

“Pretty normal”

“Good, good” Raven murmured happily, then seemed to hesitate.  

“What?”

“I just...How are you handling it?” Her voice was gentler than he was used to hear.

Charles deflated. Truth was, he didn’t want to talk about that right now, too excited over Erik, but he knew Raven was probably worried and deserved his explanation.

“I’m not sure. I mean I had a minor freak out when I got here, but it’s better now, it really is.”

Raven didn’t say anythingfor a long time, so long that Charles actually though she hadn’t heard him. He was about to repeat himself, when she spoke, voice slower than normal, as if she was choosing her words carefully:

 “You do know, don’t you Charles ,that you don’t have to deal with this right now. You can come home, and we can-“

“Raven” Charles interrupted softly. Her concern was appreciated,of course, more than she could ever know, but it was not like she would have a vacation so soon. Also, some part of him had wanted to (and still wanted to) face the challenge of the Mansion alone “I think I’ll be okay, really. I promise.”

“I just don’t-“

“You should stop worrying, sis; you sound awfully like me when you do it”

That shut her right up.

“God forbid me of sounding like a boring old man” she joked, making him smile.

 “I’m actually not calling to talk about the Mansion, you know. I have far more exciting news for you”

“...Yes?”

He tried not to sound overly-excited when he said: “I found another one”

For a second she didn’t answer, probably trying to piece together what he meant by that. Then suddenly she screamed, half excited, half disbelieving:

“What?!!”

“I know!”

“Really?” she lowered her voice “Another mutant? Damn, just...Wait, let me get somewhere more private.” He heard rustling on the other side for a while, then her voice in her normal high pitched tone again “Much better. Now, come on, tell me  _all_  about it. You talked to this guy, girl, whatever?”

“Yes! He’s not just a passerby this time, or someone I felt but didn’t contact. I actually met him. It’s a ‘he’ by the way”

“What can he do?”

“It has to do with magnetic fields.He can feel metal and probably move it as well. Oh, Raven, but his mutation is so beautiful; you had to feel it to understand. It’s like he  _hears_  the metal singing, really; it’s amazing. He can feel _everything_ , every single zipper and coin and car component and, oh it’s just so, so-“Charles tried to calm himself “I can’t even explain it“

Raven laughed. “A beautiful mutation?” She teased “Are you interested in getting in touch with another mutant or just picking up some guy, Charles?”

“I’ll have you know he’s quite handsome” He remarked, because it was true, really. “But my interest in him is purely professional, of course”

“Of course” she repeated, ironic. “Is he our age?”

Charles considered that. Erik looked older but he couldn’t be past his early thirties, really.

“A little older, I think, but not much. He’s German”

“European, huh? And what would be the name of this fine specimen?” she asked,  mimicking Charles’ voice with an over the top accent. She had begun doing that to mess with him when he they first went to Oxford and hadn’t stopped ever since.

 “Erik. No, actually is Max, or that’s how others call him, but he thinks of himself as an Erik”

 “Wait, let me see if I got this.The guy is not only German, mutant and handsome, but also has a fake name?” Charles hummed an agreement. “Let me know if you don’t want to sleep with him, brother, because I happen to like the mysterious type.”

Charles felt his smile widen. “Cut it out, you” He reprimanded, but he couldn’t manage to really sound stern when faced with Raven’s jokes. “Professional interest, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure” she agreed halfheartedly “Seriously, though, how did you meet him?”

Charles sighed.

 “Well, long story short, he is a mechanic in Manhattan and I had a car problem with my old Cadillac”

“You got outside in  _that thing_?” Raven sounded absolutely horrified “I know it’s a Cadillac and all, but Charles, that car was already tacky in 1952.”

 

“Yeah, well.” He brushed it aside “Anyway, I said about two phrases to him and I obviously couldn’t approach the mutant subject. But I’ll have to go back there in two days to pick up the car, so hopefully we will talk then”

Raven hummed.

“Sounds like a good plan”

For a second there was silence in the line, then she talked again, gentler one more time: “In the meantime you’ll be alright, won’t you?”

“I will. And if something comes up I’ll call you, of course”

“You’d better!” she demanded.

Charles smiled softly to himself. He didn’t know what he would do without her, really.

He heard rustling on Raven’s end of the line again “Fuck, I think the new manager is looking for me”

“You should go then, I don’t want to get you into trouble. We can talk later.”

 “Yeah, I’d better”  More hustling. “I'm glad you called,big brother. Don’t you disappear on me. Call me after, okay?”

“I will. Bye, sis...-”                                                 

She hung up before he could say anything else.

Charles settled the speaker down with a smile, rearranging the phone over the side table.

He lifted his head and faced the living room one more time. The smile slipped off his face, but he didn’t feel nearly as bad as before, most definitely.

Charles took a deep breath.

He only had to keep himself occupied until Wednesday that he would be fine, even in this old big Mansion full of bad memories.

 


	3. We have much in common

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which misunderstandings happen and Charles almost loses his chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm sorry that it look longer than a week to update, I spent some time with my family in another state and forgot to bring my computer. :3
> 
> Secondly, I edited the second chapter and rewrote the final part ("the phone call"). I hadn't read it properly before posting it and the flow was just bugging me to no end. So, you don't have to read again, the content of the conversation is still exactly the same, but just to make clear that the commentaries and actions that go with the dialogue are a little different. I'm sorry, it's the first time I'm posting a multichaptered, so I guess I'm still learning. 
> 
> Also, thanks for everyone who left kudos, bookmarked, subscribed and for pushbuttonkitty that left the comments! :)
> 
> Nothing left to say, to the story! :D

Wednesday started off slowly, the day warm and lazy. Two customers came to pick up their cars in the morning and another one in the afternoon, but neither of them were Xavier.

Erik had been expecting him early after that confident “I’ll see you on Wednesday then, Max”. The boy had talked almost as if he was looking forward to seeing Erik again, although that, of course, made no sense whatsoever. It was not like they had exchanged more than a couple words about the car, so, really, there was no reason to expect anything more than the usual distance between a client and his mechanic.

That tone of voice and that wink, however...-

No one had ever winked at Erik before, not even inclubs, _those_ clubs, the ones Erik, very rarely and very secretly, indulged himself. He was aware of his “don’t mess with me” aura; took pride in such, actually making an effort to maintain it. As a result, people in general didn’t feel inclined to talk to him, let alone wink at him.

Xavier seemed to be an exception to that rule, what annoyed Erik in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

He had fixed the Cadillac as soon as possible, still on Monday actually, after the other had left.  It had consisted basically of a valve job and the removal of all the rust that coated the metallic components, a job that would have posed a difficulty for anybody else, but that was easy for him. If Erik was to be honest, it had actually been a pleasure, since he hated rustiness with all his heart. Rust for Erik, was like a bad note in a symphony, something he could not eliminate fast enough.

Now, two days after the car was finished, he still waited. The Repair Shop would close soon and he had started to think Xavier had forgotten to come at all (perhaps the wink hadn’t been such a big deal; perhaps the guy had so many cars he didn’t miss the lack of a Cadillac) when he heard Paul’s flatterer voice from the front:

“Oh, Mr. Xavier, how nice to see you again!”

Erik straightened and pulled down his sleeves, which had been pushed up his elbows due to the heat. Then he stood awkwardly next to the car he was currently fixing, not sure what he should do.

“Is the car ready?” He heard the British accent.

“Yeah, it’s already done; Max can be very efficient. Here, let me show you...-“

“I’d like to talk to Max, I-... Is he there?”

 “Yeah, yeah, let me just.... – “Paul started, then shouted: “ Oi, Max, get over here, dammit!”

Erik threw the screwdriver that was in his hand on the floor and went to meet them in the front.

There was Paul, a fat man wearing a pristine mechanic get up, and Xavier, with that enormous watch again and clothes that looked just as expensive as the ones from before: black pants in which he had stuffed his hands and a blue shirt that only  complimented his eyes.

“You called, Moore?”

“Mr. Xavier wanted to talk to you”

Erik turned to Xavier and glared, challenging. _Wink now_ _, why don’t you_ his mind supplied aggressively, but of course he couldn’t say it out loud.

“Something wrong with your car, Mr. Xavier?”

“I told you to call me Charles” he smiled, careless to Erik’s glare. It was a beautiful smile, smug and strangely intimate; it bothered Erik almost as much as the wink “I haven’t seen it yet, I was hoping you could show me, since you were the one who fixed it...?”

Erik nodded. “Sure. Follow me”

Paul returned to his own business behind the counter as he walked Xavier to the right side of the Shop, where the Coupe de Ville was parked. Erik refrained the impulse to open the hood with his powers, instead, opened it with his hands.

“I was right after all. Two of your engine valves were malfunctioning. So, I replaced them. Also, I removed the rust, see?”

He looked back at Xavier’s face and accidentally met his big, blue eyes. He was looking at Erik and smiling; looking at Erik like he _knew_ him, like he knew everything about him, every little secret...-

“I see” Xavier answered, low and intimate, as if he meant it, as if he really could see it all.

Erik felt his heart miss a beat: Xavier’s smile grew, his face seemed to glow and for a second there, for a second and no more than a second, his eyes roamed over Erik’s body.

Erik tensed.

 _What if,_ came the thought, fleeting, but frightening _What if he_ does _know you._

He felt the coins in his pockets start vibrating. If he was right...-

 _Perhaps he saw you before, saw you in some club; perhaps that’s why this is bothering you so much; you can’t have fucked, you would remember that_ for sure, _but he seems like the type; perhaps he saw you there, perhaps he recognized you, perhaps he knows exactly what you are, knows exactly what you like...-_

He was sweating, because if anybody here knew, if anybody here _suspected_... 

Erik was a father. He had a daughter to take care of, appearances to maintain. No one in this world could know that he was a homosexual, or he didn’t even know what could happen.

Xavier was still  looking at him.

He was looking at him in _that way_ and Erik had probably guessed right.

He frowned and looked away, closed the hood over the engine. “I need to go back to work” he said curtly.

“Already?” Xavier sounded surprised “But I... I thought you would show me the car better, I... –“ he stopped himself “You obviously have great skills in fixing cars and I’m deeply interested in your, ah... Abilities”

“Moore can show you better if you want” Erik dismissed, already walking away.

“Wait...!” Xavier reached for his arm, but Erik was quicker and turned to avoid the contact. He looked around and was glad to see no one was looking “What?” he snapped.

Blue eyes faced him, reckless in their intensity “I... I  just think you and I have much in common” Xavier said, lifting his eyebrows meaningfully  “I, I was thinking, you could finish your work for today  and perhaps we could go out for some coffee or something, and I could...-“

He almost couldn’t believe his ears. Xavier was making a move right here, making a move in the _fucking_ Repair Shop, where anyone could overhear. How _dared_ he?

 “We have _nothing_ in common” Erik hissed.

 “No! What I’m trying to say is that I...-“

“You hear me, _Charles?”_   Erik snarled “ _I’m not fucking interested_.”

“I’m not...-“

He strode away, before Xavier could say anything else, heart beating fast. Erik felt the adrenaline cursing through his veins, the coins in his pocket shaking madly.

That had been close.

He locked himself in the bathroom in the back, tried to no success to make his coins stop moving.

That had been _too_ close. If someone had seen Xavier reaching for his arm...-

_Fuck._

He shook his head, sat down on the toilet and tried to take deep breaths, hiding his head in his hands.

No one could know.

_No one._

                            

-

 

As usual, Charles had messed up.

It had started well, or so he had thought, taking Erik away from the guy who handed payments (Paul Moore, one of the biggest bootlickers Charles had had the pleasure of meeting) and asking Erik to show him the car.

He had hoped to inquire Erik about how he had fixed the car so quickly and approach the mutant subject from there, but of course, everything had gone wrong. The problem was, Charles had been too amazed at the pull of Erik’s mind, shining bright and organized and _mutant_ , and yes, Charles had to admit, not only in a professional manner. Because of that he hadn’t handled things properly and had apparently given Erik the wrong impression.

He had thought Charles was making a move on him, gotten angry and left and God, had Charles just ruined his only chance of contacting another mutant for real?

Raven had told him to go back there and try again, of course.

“It was just a misunderstanding” she had said over the phone that night.  “You just have to go back there tomorrow and explain yourself”

 But Charles didn’t know how to do that.

The thing was, Erik hadn’t only been angry with him, he had been afraid of him. Charles had sensed that easily, sensed how Erik actually wouldn’t be angry if Charles made a move somewhere else, but in his work place,  in the place where he could actually be _discovered_...-

Charles couldn’t just walk into the Repair Shop again and call Erik for a conversation. Firstly, Erik’s colleagues could have the same impression that he had, that Charles was making a move. Secondly, he was pretty sure that Erik would refuse.

So, here he was, facing the Repair Shop further down the street.

He had parked the Cadillac on the other side of the road and a little behind, lowered his windows and turned on the radio. Charles still wasn’t very sure of how he would approach Erik, but of one thing was sure: in the next few hours the Shop would close and Erik would come outside the door. Then he would see what he would do.

In the meantime...

Charles sipped the coffee he had bought in a coffee shop a few blocks to the north, supported the thick tome on the steering wheel. He balanced the cup on his side, fished for a pen in his pocket and started cutting out phrases.

It had been a long time since Charles had last properly worked in his thesis. He had started the damn thing years ago, talking mainly about mutations, but since the last year, he had been stuck. It had been one of the main reasons why Charles had decided to come to Westchester, actually, for he had been going so crazy at his flat in Oxford, completely unable to finish his work, that he felt like he had to solve one damn thing in his life, even if that thing was the Mansion.

The US, however, had brought his inspiration back.

The US and Erik, to be truthful, his mind pulsing purple as he felt the metal sing, a mutation so incredible and unique Charles felt a little dizzy when he remembered it.

Inspired by that, Charles had  gone back to make progress on his thesis, cutting out huge chunks, adding entirely new parts, notes scattered all over the tome. He only hoped he would now manage to finish it.

He tried to occupy himself by working on it now, just as he had done it in the Mansion. The thought that Charles would have to explain the misunderstanding soon was unnerving, but the thesis, the coffee and the soft songs that played on the back helped in making it easier.

It was a blues and jazz radio. 

Charles liked that kind of music, but he honestly didn’t hear too much of it in England. Now, he took attention away from his thesis every once in a while to enjoy the sensual, contagious melody; the deep rough voices that talked about intimacy, happiness, love...

“Trust in me...” someone was singing “In all, you do... Have the faith, I have in you...”

Charles closed his eyes, let the music take him. His mind relaxed, went far, far away, free; floated through air like smoke, unfurling slowly...

_Shit, is that his car._

Charles blinked his eyes open and pulled back, so fast that he accidently dropped the cup of coffee on the seat.

“ _Bugger”_ he cursed, but he had no time to wipe it away properly. Because there was Erik, right outside the door of the Repair Shop, body rigid, looking at the not so discreet light-blue-Cadillac from the distance.

 _What is he doing here,_ Charles heard _Does that guy never learn; I said I was not interested; damn spoilt boy, always has to get what he wants; I should go there and teach him a lesson..._

Charles was just wondering what he should do in response to that, when Erik took the decision from him.  He looked to both sides, probably checking for known faces, and simply strode in his direction, walking down the street.

“Oh God” Charles muttered, turning off the radio and throwing his thesis on the back seat.  He pushed his hair back and watched as Erik crossed the street to meet him.

“Hello, Max”

Erik leaned against the metal to stare at him inside.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He snapped “If you have any problems with the car it’s too late, I’ve just closed the Repair Shop”

“No, the car is fine. But I... Well I really need to talk to you. I’m sure the subject would be of your interest”

Erik frowned.

“I’ve already said I’m not interested” He said “Really, just stop bothering me, will you?”

“I will, should you accept my previous invitation for coffee.”

 Just as soon as he had said it, Charles knew he had once more said the wrong thing. Erik’s irritation spiked viciously, his face closed off even further.

“You must be confusing me” he stated, low and dangerous “ I’m not a fucking faggot”

Charles hesitated.

He didn’t know what to say to that, really.

That was probably the moment he should clarify that that was not his purpose in the offer, but hearing Erik say that hurt, if only for knowing how self-hatred felt like.

“Look, I...-”

But Erik was already walking away, for the second time in two days, not letting Charles make things right.

He was about to lose his opportunity one more time...-

Charles opened the door and ran after him. He could pass as ridiculous, Erik could punch him, but he just didn’t care. Tomorrow Charles would take the plane back for Oxford and he would regret his entire life if he let that chance pass.

Erik had crossed the street and turned left at the alley just to the side of the Repair Shop, probably expecting to use a backside entrance to get in. Charles went after him, ran, his fancy shoes making a noise that echoed inside the alley.

Erik turned back, huffed.

“I swear to my mother” He said very clearly, “Leave me alone _right now_ or I’m going to give you the beating of your life”

Charles ignored him.

He stepped inside the alley, got closer, panting after the short sprint.

“Really, Erik, if you would just listen to me for a _second_...-“

Charles stopped. If he was lucky perhaps Erik hadn’t even noticed...

But he had. Charles saw him still, his mind almost screaming, working as fast as lightening.

_He knows my name. He knows my real name. How does he know my name? No one knows my name. I don’t give my name on clubs. Oh my God, if he knows my name I could be in danger. This place might be dangerous. Oh my God, there’s only one explanation. He’s probably government. He probably knows what I did in Russia and came here to take me away and lock me away. Oh my God, Anya. Oh fuck. Oh but I won’t let anything happen to her. I won’t let them take me away, I won’t, I swear...-_

Charles stretched a hand to touch to him, to calm him, opened his mouth to say that he was not government, that he was a telepath, that everything would be all right... But Erik was faster.

He moved quickly, efficiently: grabbed Charles by his arm, kneed his stomach and threw him against the wall, completely out of combat. He panted for air, tried to move away by instinct, but Erik held him by the neck.

“Who do you work for?” he demanded, voice commanding.

“I don’t...-“Charles panted “I’m not...”

Erik tightened his fingers; Charles felt himself choking.

“US government or another?”

“I... I...-“ he was short out of breath and everything was starting to spin; he couldn’t focus, couldn’t speak, couldn’t...

He had no other option.

 _Let go,_ he projected, not at all smoothly _I know what this means to you, but, Erik, you have to let go._

It was instantaneous.

 In a moment he couldn’t breathe and on the other Erik had already jumped back, as if burned.

“What...?”

Charles held himself against the wall, coughed. Things were still spinning and he felt strange, but slowly everything had started to come back to normal.

When he finally looked up, he found Erik as if frozen.

“You were in my head.” He whispered, shocked. The coins in his pocket were vibrating so much that Charles could her them bump against one another. “You were in my head!”

He nodded.

“How did you do that?”

“You have yours tricks, I have mine. I’m like you.” Charles sighed “It’s what I have been trying to say all along”

Erik stared. He didn’t seem to know what to do or what to say, his face pale and disbelieving.

 “I thought I was alone”

Charles felt a lump in his throat.

How lonely it must have been, living so long thinking to be the one. How hard to consider yourself the outcast, the pariah, the only. How easy to lose yourself, to feel like there was nothing more in this world but injustice and pain...

“You’re not alone” Charles said.

He moved, dared to rest a hand in Erik’s shoulder.

“Erik, you’re not alone”


	4. Face it, my friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an important conversation takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something about this chapter is not making me happy, but it's been a week since I last updated, so here it is.

Erik still wasn’t very sure of what was happening.

One moment he was strangling Charles, thinking he was a government agent, and the next thing he knew he was being ushered away from the filthy alley.

“Let’s talk somewhere else” Charles had said, hand still in his shoulder “Accept my coffee like a friend offer and let me explain this”

Erik had followed.

He didn’t think he was capable of making any other decision right now, Charles’ voice echoing inside his thoughts and making him feel like he was going crazy.

 _Was_  he going crazy?

He didn’t know this man at all, truly. Besides there had to be some other explanation. But he kept remembering Charles’ voice in his head, remembering the way he had jumped back against his own will...-

Xavier.

His name was Xavier and Erik had no idea why all of the sudden he had started to label the man with something as intimate as his first name.

“I grabbed a cup of coffee here earlier.” Charles was saying, when Erik finally came back from his world of speculation.  He looked around and realized Charles had led them to the old coffee shop Erik always passed when going home, a few blocks away from the Repair Shop “It’s pretty empty right now, I think we can talk”

Erik nodded and followed Charles inside.

They sat at a table in the corner, Erik quickly making an inspection of all the metal in the room. It helped him ground himself, feeling all this metal in a setting he really wasn’t comfortable with.

“Excuse me, dear” Charles waved the waitress “I’d like one latte for me please and a... – What would you like, Er... I mean, Max?”

“An espresso” he muttered, just to say something.

The waitress left and they settled more comfortably. Or saying it better, Charles settled and Erik remained perfectly still, feeling like he didn’t have the upper hand in a situation for the first time in a long, long time.

“Much better than that alley” Charles said, smiling “Now, I’m sure you must be very confused”

Very confused seemed like an understatement.

Erik kept reviving what had happened, remembering how sure he had been about the nature of Charles’ invitation, then how he had attacked him in the alley. And then that voice. A voice talking inside head and a sudden, unstoppable impulse of pulling back...

He looked around; realized the coffee shop was indeed almost empty. The few customers were sitting at distant tables and didn’t seem to be paying any attention to them.

“No one will hear us” Charles assured, as if he knew what Erik was thinking.

Forget _if_ , perhaps he  _did_  know. Could he know what Erik was thinking?

Erik took a deep breath, tapped the coins inside his pockets rhythmicaly to calm himself. “I just don’t understand” He said slowly “I mean, who are you? How did you find me? What can you do? How...-?”

“Stop"Charles raised a hand, amused “One thing at a time, okay?

“Fine” He answered drily.

Charles seemed to consider for a moment, then started:

 “In answer to your questions, I didn’t lie before” he said “My name really is Charles Xavier. I live in Oxford. Like I told you, I’m here to take care of the family property... And my car actually broke just outside your Shop.” He shook his head, as if disbelieving. “Talk about coincidences, huh?”

Erik didn’t answer, so he kept going:

“The part you didn’t know, though... -I have this... Ability, you may call it. Like you, but obviously different. I am what they’d call a telepath. That means I can influence nerve cells, just like you can influence metal”

Erik raised his eyebrows wordlessly, while the waitress brought back their cups. Influence nerve cells Charles said, but that didn’t sound good at all.

 “And that means you can make me  _do_ things?” he asked after the waitress had gone back to the counter.

Charles sighed, sipped his latte.

“Well, yeah.  I can also know what you’re thinking, but of course I have very strict rules about how to use these two abilities.” He brushed his hair back, Erik following the movement of his watch “You saw it yourself, the amount of time it took me to actually make you stop trying to kill me.”

Erik didn’t deny it. He had tried to kill Charles and Charles had just let him, revealed himself in the last possible minute.

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why don’t you use it all the time?”

Charles hesitated, like he hadn’t understand the question.

“Well, people have their own right to privacy, obviously.”

“Obviously” Erik agreed.

All the secrets he had came back in flashes: the way he could move metal, the fake name, the supposedly dead wife, the tattoo in his pulse, the scarred body, the clubs he visited when he just couldn’t take it one more minute...- Other people's secrets, though, were another matter.

“I just don’t see why  _you_  care?” Erik pointed out “If what you said is true and I was in your shoes I would be using it. It could be a powerful weapon. In fact, I doubt you _really_ aren’t using it right now”

The thought was disturbing.

Erik’s secrets could be being read, while he sat in that comfortable chair, in front of those blue eyes and those red lips.

 “I’m  _not_  reading your thoughts right now, Erik” Charles said, sounding almost offended.

It felt so awkward to be called Erik this normally.It was his name, yes, the name his mom had given him, the name he thought about as his, but no one had called him like that ever since Magda.

“I don’t do that without a reason,you know, especially to someone I care about at least at little. It’s not every day I find others like me and I certainly wouldn’t want to scare them away by forcefully getting to know the things they want to keep for themselves”

That reminded him.

”How did you find me anyway? You still didn’t explain it.”

Charles huffed.

“Yes I  _did._  It was a coincidence: my car broke, some guy called someone at the Repair Shop for me and you were there.  _End of story._  “

“And how did you know I could... Do the things I can?”

“I didn’t at first. But then when you were seeing my car and you reached out and... Well, I can’t help reading  _some things._   Very strong feelings or thoughts are just _there,_ recognizable. And what you can do... It creates a very specific brain wave that I couldn’t help reading”

Erik supposed that made sense.

Of course Erik couldn’t believe him completely, but just the thought that perhaps there was other, other like him that actually was being sincere, that actually didn’t have a previous plan to kill him, or lock him away, or...-

And then it dawned of him.

“What happened to you?” He murmured “What did they do to you to make you like this?”

Charles looked clueless.“What do you mean? I’m afraid I’m not following”

But he had to. Of course he had to.

“When I was a kid, at the War... They experimented on me.” Erik confessed. He didn’t know why he was saying it. He had never told that to anyone besides Magda and he certainly didn’t have to tell anyone else. But surely Charles had to have been through something similar, right? “The things they’ve done... They’ve made me like this. Did that happened to you as well?”

Charles’ face fell. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.

“Oh” He whispered after what seemed a long time. His eyes looked impossibly blue, huge. “Oh, Erik”

“What?” Erik couldn’t understand that reaction “You can tell me.”

“No” Charles said, then finished his latte with a big, shaky gulp. The cup made a dull sound when he rested it on the table with a little more force than necessary “I don’t know how to tell you this. But, my friend, you’re wrong”

“I’m not” Erik answered by instinct. Then asked: “In which part?”

“The last part.” Charles bent his body forward, his face closer to Erik's “Erik. I’m really sorry for what you’ve been through. I’m afraid it didn’t make you like this, though.  _They_  didn’t make you like this.”

Erik frowned.

“Your mut... Ability, I mean. We were born like this. It’s genetic.”

That didn’t make any sense.

“I wasn’t born like this” Erik said and he was so keen on proving it that he actually explained his point. “I only started sensing metal when I got to the camps”

Charles’ face seemed to grow paler.

“You, you mean...-“he stopped himself.  “That’s probably when you manifested it, then.” He reasoned, his voice still not very firm “But it was there already, I swear.  I know what I’m talking about, I study Genetics at Oxford. ”

Erik gulped down his espresso, forgotten for so long that now it was almost cold.

Could that be? Could it be that his ability, this thing that seemed at the same time a curse and blessing, was not something he could credit Schmidt for?

“I don’t...- How would that even work?”

Charles sighed, brushed his hair back again.

“Well, there aren’t many studies in the area, obviously. It’s a new field and I believe many evidences were wrongly documented as something else, either for ignorance or for fear of what the scientific class might think. I am still writing my thesis on the matter myself, so I can’t say many things for sure.” He took a deep breath “For now, though, the abilities of our kind seem to be caused by a genetic mutation in one of your main chromosomes.”

Erik couldn’t help but smirk.

“Genetic mutation, like those people who have extra fingers? That’s what you’re saying that makes me move metal or allows you to invade minds?”

 It even sounded ridiculous.

“Well, yes. Mutations are responsible for creating very new and interesting characteristics in the human race, be that extra fingers or the sort of abilities we have.” Charles looked relieved to talk about the topic “Auburn hair, for example, it’s caused by a mutation in a gene we actually know. Blue eyes, as well, like yours or mine.” His expression softened with a smile “Face it, my friend, we are mutants, one way or the other.”

My friend.

It was the second time Charles called him that, although Erik hadn’t give him any reason to do so. Charles was  _not_  his friend, even if apparently he wasn’t someone Erik should despise.

Erik didn’t object it, though.

 “Don’t compare your eyes with mine” He murmured absently. It felt almost like comparing the ocean to a children’s plastic pool.

Charles’ mouth curved upwards. “Excuse me, I didn’t get that?”

 “Nothing.” Erik looked away quickly. “I didn’t say anything” But when he looked up again and noticed the way Charles was smiling, it was obvious he knew better. May be he even...- “Are you reading my mind?”

“No” He said, but his face was flushing an attractive shade of red. Charles obviously wasn’t very good at lying.

 “You said you wouldn’t” Erik was actually surprised with how offended his voice sounded “You said you’d...-“

“Look, I’m sorry” Charles stopped him gently “But I also told you that when there’s a strong feeling or thought, I can’t  _not_  hear it. And really, Erik, sometimes you think so hard that’s almost like you’re screaming inside your head.”

Erik felt himself lose the control of the coins in his pockets for the first time since the alley. So he screamed inside his head, that was it? That was the excuse Charles would use, then?

"That’s _rich_. How can I even be sure if I’m really screaming inside my head or if you’re reading my mind?”

“You can’t.”

Charles stopped, considered his next words carefully.

“You’ll have to trust in me, I guess”

Erik snorted.

If there was one thing life had thought him was that he shouldn’t trust  _anyone_ _._ But to trust someone that could actually know what he was thinking...-

He had had enough of this conversation.

“What do you want from me anyway?” Erik demanded “You come into the Shop and keep inviting me for coffee and now explain me all of those things.  _Why?_  What is your interest in all this? What do you want me  _to do_?”

“I don’t want you to do  _anything_.” Charles assured. He sounded honest, but Erik knew better than to just believe it. “I don’t even  _live_  here, Erik. But it’s like I told you, there are few of us out there. I’ve felt others before, yes, but there’s just one more mutant that I’m really in contact with. And then I felt you. And I thought, I don’t know, we should stay in touch, somehow. We should...” he trailed off, shook his head “Would you  be up to that?  Staying in touch? Just that?”

‘Staying in touch’. It sounded simple enough, but still like something Erik would never do in a million years.

Erik didn’t ‘stayed in touch’ with anyone, didn’t really have anybody besides Anya. He couldn’t really afford anybody else, his life too based on lies, his entire time focused on either working or taking care of his daughter.

Anya.

He reached for Charles’ watch and realized he was too late already. He had to go pick up Anya in Mrs. Brooks’ house or she might be seriously worried...-

He got up from his chair.

Charles just observed distantly for a second, probably not thinking too much of it. Until Erik started to search his pockets, that was, when it finally seemed to hit him: “Wait, where are you going?”

 “Home” Erik murmured, taking out his wallet and finding a few dollars inside “I’m too late.”

“For what?” Charles sounded a little desperate now “Just wait, please, my plane leaves tomorrow morning, I...-” Erik threw a few notes on the table. “We don’t have to stay in touch if you don’t want to, let’s just talk now, please, I...-“

Erik huffed. “Look” he bent his body forward to meet Charles’ eyes “I’ll be at the Shop by nine tomorrow morning. Wait in the same place you were today if you still want to talk”

Charles nodded.

 “Okay, but I’ll have to leave around a quarter past nine. It’s not like we’ll have much time to discuss matters and...-“

“Then I’ll give you my phone number or something” Erik assured to shut him up, although he really didn’t see it happening. “But I have to go now.”

“Ah, okay” Charles gave up at last “See you, then. Bye”

“See you”

He strode out, putting his wallet inside his pocket and rejoicing in all the metal there were in the streets of New York.

Erik took a deep breath and started his walk home. 

He had a lot to think about in the way, starting with a decision: should or should he not avoid Charles the next morning?


	5. Friday morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it's the next morning and things don't go exactly as planned.

 

It was still early, far too early, at least for someone like Charles, who’d always preferred late nights and lazy mornings.

He sighed, lighted another cigarette and went to pour his second cup of coffee of the day, the sun still low on the horizon.

It was just past seven a.m. and Charles had been awake since five, something that hadn’t happen without an alarm clock in years. He wasn’t sure why, but he had been too agitated to stay in bed after remembering yesterday, with all its misunderstandings, conversations and finally with Erik’s storming off so suddenly.

Now, with all his clothes packed and his plane tickets at hand, Charles wondered if what happened would indeed make any difference. It had seemed so important to contact Erik, to make him understand what they were, but in the end he didn’t know how that would really impact.

Erik didn’t trust him, what he had expected after just a glimpse of the man’s mind, but it wasn’t just that: Erik didn’t _want_ to trust him. He hadn’t seem too interested even in ‘staying in touch’ as Charles had so awkwardly put it, and had left the coffee house in such a rush that Charles couldn’t help wondering if he would even show up in today’s meeting.

Unfortunately, Charles had any other options but hoping that he came.

His tickets back to Oxford had been bought ages ago, together with the tickets that had brought him here and, truth was, he couldn’t force someone to care in such a short notice (or being more precise, _could_ but refused to).

Perhaps if he had a little more time to convince Erik, to pester him until he could see Charles could indeed be trusted...

He threw the rest of his coffee in the sink, gazed around the huge kitchen. Charles couldn’t help smirking at this idea. Who would have imagined that he would ever be regretting not having more time to spend in New York, more time to spend in this blasted Mansion?

Not that he wouldn’t manage it, Charles thought, somewhat proudly.

He had proved that he _could_ manage it; had spent five days in here as he had challenged himself to.

It was true that he hadn’t done everything he had hoped for, because even after five days he hadn’t been able to decide if he would sell the Mansion or not, what had been one of the main purposes of this trip. But Charles had his entire life to decide something so serious, didn’t he?

The important thing was, he had taken the first step. He had faced it: slept inside his old bedroom, worked on his thesis and even called the damn handyman that Mr. Giles had suggested to fix some small issues in the House.

It was something.

Charles walked to the living room, pushed his mother’s crystal vase to the side and with another sigh, pocketed the paper he had tucked below it.

It was that note, the note that had freaked him out on Monday and made him meet Erik in the first place...-

“Mr. Charles?” He heard a knock on the opened door, then Mr. Giles peered inside “The cab you asked for is here, sir”

“Oh, thanks, I’ll be right there”

Charles took a last look inside, grabbed his suitcase resting over the sofa. The old caretaker was just outside, supported by his cane, waiting with the bundle of keys in hand, so Charles didn’t bother closing the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you, sir?” Mr. Giles asked, far more helpful and concerned now that Charles was leaving without putting the Mansion for sale “It would be my pleasure to drop you in the airport, Mr. Charles, it would be much cheaper than taking a cab...-“

Charles wasn’t going directly to the airport, but he didn’t bother to correct him.

“It’s very gentle of you, but I’d rather take the cab anyway. Thank you, though, Mr. Giles. Also, thank you for these last few days. It was good to see you again... ”

“You too. You should come back more often, sir... And bring Miss. Raven with you the next time!”                                  

Charles smiled. “I will, be sure of that” He patted the old man on his shoulder and hopped inside the yellow car. “Remember to call me if anything happens”

“Okay, Mr. Charles. Have a safe trip!”

 Charles closed the door and the taxi driver started maneuvering back.

“The airport, I heard?” he asked.

But Charles was too busy taking a last look at the Mansion as they went: the opulence of the House, the hugeness of the grounds, the enormous trees that spread next to the path of the car...

 “Sir, I asked if you are going to the airport.”

“Oh, sorry” Charles came back abruptly, as the cab got outside the gates “Yes, I am.  But I actually need you to drop me in Lower Manhattan first”

The driver nodded and hit the road, as Charles leaned his head against the window.

Hopefully, Erik would actually come to meet him and it wouldn’t all be for nothing.

 

-

 

“Papa, you’re doing it again”

Erik looked to both sides of the street and gripped Anya’s hand tighter to cross it.

“Hmm?”

“My wrist!” his daughter cried out.

 Erik immediately stopped walking, kneeled next to her. He looked down and cursed his lack of attention: he apparently was vibrating Anya’s bracelet so intensely that her entire arm was shaking.

“Oh” He put his powers under control again, slipped the metal gently down her arm.  “I’m so sorry, _liebling,_ I was distracted" He massaged her wrist. It seemed to be all in order. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, it was just shaking” She said in her tiny voice and then asked: “Are you mad at me? You always do that when you’re mad at someone”

Erik hesitated. They were walking to Anya’s school, as they did every single morning. The thing was, this was not a regular morning. Erik would drop her there and then, when he arrived at the Repair Shop, Charles would be waiting...-

“I’m not mad at anyone, and especially not at you, _schatz_ ” Erik assured her “I’m just nervous with some things.”

“What kind of things?”

Erik took a deep breath. He kissed her wrist and got to his feet, but when he looked down he found her staring, waiting for his answer.

Why did children have to be so damn curious?

 “It’s just this customer” he started, making his policy always to avoid outright lying to her “He is going to meet me at the Repair Shop today and I...- he restarted walking– I don’t  know if he’s as nice as he seems to be, that’s all.”

She was still staring at him, so he added quickly:

“You would like his car, you know. It’s a Cadillac as well”

It worked; Anya’s eyes shining in excitement. “Which color, papa?”

“Blue”

She deflated.

“Blue is boring” She stated, then lowered her eyes to the street.

“It’s not regular blue, _schatz_. It’s a light blue, like the sky. You’d like it, I’m sure of it.”

“I’d like the pink one more” She said stubbornly. 

Erik smiled, decided not to insist. His daughter could be very stubborn, but then again, he had no room to talk.

They continued their walk, Erik still considering his meeting with Charles afterwards.

He had decided not to avoid him, after all. Erik couldn’t trust the guy; that was obvious, but he just couldn’t let it go that easily either, even if that probably was a mistake. Half of him felt it was too cruel to let Charles waiting after all the trouble he had gone through to approach Erik yesterday and the other half was just too curious about the things he had said.

Charles had explained it was a genetic mutation, this thing they had.

Erik had always thought that his powers were the collateral damage of what he had been through in the camps, but then again he had always thought he was an anomaly.

‘Erik, you are not alone’ Charles had said, his hand in Erik’s shoulder.

As far as Erik was concerned, he was still as alone as ever, Charles being like him or not, but if there were others, others that could do what he did, it was worth the risk to get to know them, right?

“Will you be late again today, papa?” Anya asked him, bringing him back to Earth. They could see the school already, with all the fancy mothers and their daughters on the sidewalk right ahead “Mrs. Brooks said she won’t be making cookies again today if you will, because it’s the third time this week she makes them!”

“That’s good to know, she’s spoiling you too much with those sweets.”

 “No, she isn’t!” Anya could sound rather bossy when she wanted to be “You said you liked the cookies too!! You said you could have them _every_ day!”

“ _You_ said that and I agreed with you” Erik chuckled, lowered to kiss her head in front of the school “But you can have them, _liebling,_ just not _every_ day. It’s too much sugar. Anyway, you won’t need them today,because I’ll pick you up early, okay?”

She still seemed a little mad, but she hugged him anyway. “Fine”

“Have a nice day, huh?”

“You too”

“And where is my kiss?”

She smacked his cheek and ran to one her friends without any other word, already following the teacher inside. It was that other teacher, Mrs. L something, that Erik could never really remember the name...-

“Mr. Eisenhardt?”

Erik got up and turned around.

Mrs. Anne was looking at him, a beautiful woman, all proper in a green dress. She was Anya’s favorite teacher, one of those few that had helped her a lot in the beginning, when her English still wasn’t very good and she had trouble making friends. Erik was quite thankful for that.

“Hello, Mrs. Anne, how are you?”

“Very good, thank you.” She walked over to him, looked around. “I’ve been actually meaning to talk to you for the last few days.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what she would like to talk to him about, but Charles would probably be arriving at the shop anytime now, so...

“It has to be today? Because you see, ma’am, I’m a little busy, if it could be arranged for tomorrow it would be better...”

“Mr. Eisenhardt” Mrs. Anne stepped closer to him, found his eyes “I’d rather if it was today. To be honest, I’m concerned with Anya. It won’t take long, I promise. Mrs. Lace will help me take the rest of the girls inside and you can follow me to my office soon after...-“

“Concerned with what?” Erik cut her, all politeness gone. He felt his heart speeding up at the possibility that Anya might be having any problems. Anya was his sweetheart, his everything; he didn’t want her to face anything worse than the prospect of not having cookies daily. “Is something happening? Is something wrong?”

 “I don’t know” Mrs. Anne admitted “But I have to show you something. ”

Erik nodded wordlessly.

He would probably be late at meeting Charles.

Fuck it.

 If Anya was having some sort of issue, then he would deal with everything else later.

 

-

 

Charles sighed, looked at his watch for what seemed the thousandth time today.

_Nine sixteen..._

He walked around, kicked a plastic bag floating around to the side.

Erik was late. Sixteen minutes late to be exact, what didn’t seem like him at all.

Admittedly, Charles didn’t really know him, but just brushing someone’s mind gave a telepath a certain knowledge about that person... And Erik did not felt like the kind that would ever be late. For anything.

Charles brushed his hair back, stared at the clock one more time.

He had known that Erik probably wouldn’t come.

Still, he had arrived one hour before the agreement, exactly where his car had been parked; had done everything in his power, had hoped...

_Nine seventeen._

Charles had to be going. He had to catch another cab and get to the airport, or he would lose his flight.

He couldn’t force Erik, if Erik didn’t want to have anything to do with him, really...

Still, it was rough.

Finding another mutant in itself was a rare occurrence and Erik, you see... His power was so impressive, his mind so closed off and interesting, his personality, so enigmatic and independent and Charles, well...

Charles had wanted to get to know him.

To become his acquaintance.

His friend.

His...-

_Nine eighteen._

Charles huffed, caught his suitcase where it was resting on the floor. He started walking, ready to hail a cab any moment. He walked a bit, looked around...

He could see people working on the Repair Shop ahead. There were a few guys bringing a car in, but no sign of Erik, of course.

He examined for a while, unsure. May be if he left a number...

But Erik would never call anyway.

Charles stopped second guessing himself, lifted a hand. A few moments later, a cab was pulling to the side for him.

“Where too, sir?”

“The airport, please” Charles said.

As the driver hummed in agreement, he leaned his head against the window one more time.

It shouldn’t have meant so much, but the fact that Erik hadn’t come made Charles really feel like crying.

 

-

 

Mrs. Anne’s office was nice. It was very neat, very ample and very girly, all decorated with soft colors and flowers.

It did nothing, however, to make Erik less worried.

“Sit, Mr. Eisenhardt, please”

Erik obeyed and she followed, facing him across the desk.

“What is it?” Erik asked as soon as she had sat down “Is she having any difficulty in any subject? Getting in fights with any of the girls? Or is it the teachers, is she being disrespectful, Mrs. Anne? I try to teach her to be polite, but I’ll admit she can be difficult, too stubborn I’d say, a little too full of herself sometimes...”

Mrs. Anne smiled.

“You’re sweet, you know”

Erik frowned. Sweet was not an adjective he would use to define himself in _any_ shape or form.

“I don’t mean to offend” Mrs. Anne said quickly, probably noticing his expression “I just mean... In the way you care about your daughter, that is. Most fathers aren’t like that. They leave the mothers to take care of the education.”

“It’s not like I have someone to take care of Anya’s education for me, is it?”

Mrs. Anne blushed. It somehow reminded Erik of Charles’ blush the past evening, although it wasn’t even remotely as attractive as that.

“Again, I didn’t mean to offend. I understand your wife has passed away, Mr. Eisenhardt; I can imagine how difficult it must be raising your daughter alone”

She didn’t have the faintest idea actually, although Erik knew she meant well.

It was one thing to be a single parent who had the support of family, or friends; or even to be a single mother, something that although it was not exactly accepted, it was much more common.

To be in Erik’s shoes, though...

Erik was a man with a small daughter, who had absolutely _nobody_ else. He had no family left, no friends to count with and he could never, _ever_ remarry.

He had considered that before, in the time when Anya was still just a baby and he had been so lost he had no clue how to care for her. He had decided not to do that again, though, ever. It wouldn’t be fair to the woman he chose, really, not when at that point Erik already knew which gender he actually wanted to have in his bed.

“Mr. Eisenhardt, look” Mrs. Anne said. “Let’s cut to chase here, okay?”

“Yes”

“About all you said before... You don’t have to worry. Anya is a very bright kid and she has no relationships issues that I know of, not with the other girls and not with us teachers either. But...”

Mrs. Anne opened a drawer and rummaged through it.

“We encourage our girls to draw a lot, as I’m sure you know. It’s nice way to develop imagination and coordination and an amazing talent. And the thing is, I’ve been worried about the things Anya has been drawing lately...” She passed Erik a pile of papers “Why don’t you take a look”

Erik did.

That was definitely Anya’s drawings; he could recognize them, especially because he was quite good at drawing himself and knew she was not bad for her age either. But, the things he saw...

There was a lot of red and orange.

A lot of fire, if he was to be direct, burning houses and burning families and a very vivid one that showed a man’s left side in flames.

He examined it slowly.

You could almost think...-

“The thing is, of our teachers has a degree in psychology and she said than when a girl in such a young age draws things as violent as this, it’s probably because something is oppressing her” Mrs. Anne shook her head “So, Mr. Eisenhardt, of course you know how to raise your kid, but I think it would be wise to think about it. If there’s something...-”

“That’s not what this is” Erik interrupted her roughly “It’s not some psychological bullshit”

Mrs. Anne arched her eyebrows.

“Now, Mr. Eisenhardt, I understand you...-“

“It’s not that” Erik interrupted her again “I ...-There was an accident in our house. It caught on fire. That’s how...- But she was very, very young, I didn’t think...“

“Oh” Mrs. Anne’s exhaled. She seemed to consider it for a moment, then asked very gently: “Forgive me asking, but is that how your wife passed away?”

For a half-second Erik thought about saying the truth. He could say that Magda hadn’t died, that Magda had left, that Magda had been afraid... – But he just nodded.

“I don’t understand.” Erik stared at the drawings “I mean, Anya has nightmares with flames sometimes, but I never thought she actually remembered it that much. She never told me anything like this before... And she was three years old, how can she remember it?”

Mrs. Anne glanced at the drawings herself.

“I’m not sure” she sighed “I’m just guessing here, but they say children can remember traumatizing events from when they were very young...-”

It sure had been traumatizing, for all of them.

“Anyway, that’s what I wanted to show you. I don’t want to concern you too much, but Anya is such a sweet girl and I just thought it would be better if you were aware of this problem. Now that you told me about the accident, it seems more understandable, but maybe you should still talk to her about it?”

“You can be sure I will.”

He examined the drawings a little longer and stretched a hand to give him them back.

“Oh, you can take them” she pushed his hand away “And you know,  feel free to look for me if you need to talk about Anya"

Erik nodded slowly, not sure of what to say.

“I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Anne.” He settled finally “Really”

She smiled.

“Anytime, Mr. Eisenhardt” she dismissed.

As he got up to go away, he got a glance at the clock on the wall behind.

It was nine twenty two.

He had probably lost the chance to meet Charles by now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes. :) Feedback is always appreciated!


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